Energetically Unstable
by succedissidor
Summary: Short and sweet, except not - Mello is a high explosive train: detonator, booster, bursting charge. Matt is just a spectator. Happy Fourth of July.


It would appear that I am a touch obsessed with dear Mello. Matt makes a wonderful filter through which to examine him. I don't own 'em. (Ohba and Obata do, damn their eyes.)

.

**Energetically Unstable**

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Matt did not know where he was going, or rather, where he was being taken. Or perhaps 'taken' is a bit mild, because what actually happened is, he was grabbed around the wrist by a silent and grim-faced Mello, who proceeded to drag him down the stairs and into the car. He was wholly ignored when he protested, when he asked what on earth was going on, what the hell drugs Mello was on today. When It became clear that he would not be getting any answers, he slumped down into his seat and resigned himself to his fate.

They skirted a couple of large white vans, and for some reason a fire truck, which looked ominous without its flashing lights and siren, crouching silently in the dusk. Mello finally stopped the car at the top of a hill, overlooking an empty little soccer field, a spectacular view of the city stretching out before him. Matt cocked an eyebrow at his companion.

"Hmm. Is this some sort of makeout point? Lover's Lane? Is there something you're trying to tell me, mate?" He fell silent at the glare Mello shot at him, before the blond boy slid out of the car and slammed the door. Matt, having nothing better to do, followed.

From outside the car, he could see the activity on the field that had been hidden before. Little men scurried about, laying wires and lines and little boxes, and bigger boxes- okay, well, Matt had no idea what they were doing but they looked busy and Mello was obviously interested. Matt decided to just shut up and wait. Something exciting was bound to happen sooner or later.

A few minutes later, a warning klaxon sounded, startling Matt so badly that he jumped from his seat on the bumper of the car into a defensive stance. Mello just smirked at him, which would have pissed him off if not for the blinding, deafening explosion seconds later.

Oh. _Oh. Fireworks._

_._

..

…

Mello had always been a bit of a pyromaniac. The little cad was always sneaking off with Roger's lighter and performing 'experiments.' (It was a real surprise that Wammy's hadn't yet been rendered a pile of ashes.) But on their first November fifth, when Mello was still sad and mostly solitary, and Matt was still just nobody, and they weren't quite friends yet, the children were taken to see the bonfires and the fireworks. Matt happened to see Mello's face light with glee when the first rocket flared, and understood that he was witnessing the birth of a true, passionate, lifelong love between Mello and explosives.

They learned explosives, of course. Theory, application, practical. Every student was required at least a rudimentary knowledge of the chemical and mechanical makeup of bombs: detonators, boosters, and bursts. They built their own fireworks for extra credit. The blond was unmatched in the class- Mello was an overachiever in any case, even more so when totally infatuated with a subject. Besides, this was an area in which he easily outstripped Near, making it a balm for his ego as well as an outlet for his pyromania.

The really interesting part was how simultaneously like and unlike Mello and his pet diversion really were. Both were "energetically unstable," probably Matt's all-time favourite term to describe the other boy. Mello was explosive, yes, raining down in rainbow colours and leaving the scenery a pile of smoking rubble. But explosives, bombs in particular and especially fireworks, required precision. They were measured, aimed, deliberately detonated. Mello was none of these things, being entirely unpredictable in action and thought and possibly having the patience of a saint, or an incredibly short fuse.

When had Mello called for him, years later, unexpectedly, Matt did not know what to expect. He had suspicions concerning the relative explosive properties of his wayward friend and versus an atomic bomb- he wasn't surprised at all to find Mello with only half a face, and a wicked gleam in his good eye.

.

..

…

Mello smirked at him, then fell back across the bonnet of the car, eyes glazing over as the concussions shook the air from their lungs. Matt would have thought Mello'd be a little less keen on fireworks, having seen one from the inside, but the glee on his companion's face betrayed no fear. Mello looked happy, excited, like a child. These had been his first love, after all.

The sick bastard had probably appreciated the mechanics of his own blast.

The thing about love is, danger just makes it more exciting.

Boom.

.

..

...


End file.
